


Like a Rolling Stone

by Fritillary



Category: Myst
Genre: Spoilers for Book of Atrus, Spoilers for Book of Tiana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-12
Updated: 2008-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 21:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fritillary/pseuds/Fritillary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna, like a rolling stone, has had many homes; some she made and some she destroyed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Rolling Stone

**Like A Rolling Stone**

 _Anna?_  
Yes, Father?  
 _What do you see?_

I see the deep desert; burnt red and black and brown by the sun, but which does not reach into the depths of the cleft. Instead, here the high rust-coloured walls shelter our delicately cultivated patch of emerald green, the heady scent of the herbs and plants your old hands have cared for since before I was born almost visible in the air. Wedged between the sheer walls is The Lodge, our home – yours and mine – for many years. And everywhere I look, I see you.

 _Anna?_  
Yes, Guildsman Aitrus?  
 _What do you see?_

I see the granite citadel of D'ni rising out of the crystal clear water of the lake, the lights of a hundred lanterns – a thousand homes – burning brilliantly in the permanent semi-darkness here deep within the earth. Beneath a nearby pier, the waters glow a deep orange as if lit from far below by distant flames. In every elaborate carving, I see the mark of your ancestors, the guildsmen of D’ni in all their forms; the Surveyors, the Bookmakers, the Maintainers, the Writers, whose ink has touched so many lives, rolled over so many stones. Everywhere, where I see them, I see you.

 _Anna?_  
Yes, my love?  
 _What do you see?_

I see the memory of D’ni’s last moments before we fled through the Link: the flames have left the lake, instead have spread to the city itself, though my own tears blur the scene. Some of these tears are borne of fear, some of pain; the pain of knowing that it was my doing. Mine and his, traitor that he was - and remains, though he burned like so many of the bodies he left in his wake. Everywhere about what was my home I see now only ruins of the life I could have led. I open my eyes again now to see our new home, Gemedet, Written by your own hand. And though you are gone, everywhere I look, I see you.

 _Atrus?_  
Yes, Grandmother Anna?  
 _What do you see?_

I see the rope bridges, woven by your own hands years ago, that stretch out between the high cleft walls so not even the space for a path is wasted in the lush green gardens below. At the far end grow the tiny skyblue star-blooms down beside the pool - the only place in the cleft where the soil holds enough moisture for them - Mother's flowers, watered on her grave by the only tears my Father ever wept. The narrow steps I see carved into the rock wall, lead down to the squat heavy door of the storeroom, past the golden silk curtain you bartered from the caravan-traders last summer to brighten up my bed-side. Everywhere I look, I see your influence; your drawings and carvings upon the doors and walls as if the world were your canvas. Everywhere, I see _you_. 


End file.
